Nothing Lasts Forever
by MovieQueen
Summary: Margaret's life is falling apart, and so is Hawkeye's. They cling to each other desperately, but Margaret can't help but wonder: when the war's over, will she ever see him again? Very HM. CHAPTER 3 UP, finally! Yay! Please read and review!
1. Faces

She was falling. Everything around her seemed to be crumbling at her feet, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She had never felt this way before, not once; never so out of control. Never so vulnerable.

Margaret tucked a stray wisp of blonde hair back into her surgical cap and closed her eyes. She was sitting by the door just inside Post-Op, counting the minutes until she had to go back to the OR. They had been in surgery for nearly twelve hours, fighting for the lives of several boys who had been severely wounded on the front lines. So far, they had only lost one. Margaret had been there the entire time, but Colonel Potter had seen the drawn look on her face and suggested that she take a break. Just a few minutes, he'd told her, just long enough to let her catch her breath. Margaret leaned her head back and rested it against the wall. The colonel had no idea just how badly she'd needed this break.

She was losing it. Really losing it. She had always been so strong, so ready-for-anything, but now... she felt as if she was coming unglued. The pieces didn't fit anymore. During an operation, she could barely keep it together well enough to hand one of the doctors a scalpel. It was ridiculous, really, but no matter where she was or what she was doing, her mind seemed to wander. She couldn't stop thinking about him. Hawkeye. She was falling for him, and she was falling fast.

The _squeek_ of someone opening the Post-Op door prompted her to open her eyes. Seeing who it was, she smiled.

Looking a little worse for wear but handsome all the same, Hawkeye Pierce walked slowly into the room. Margaret's smile faded when she saw just how worn out he looked. He had gotten thinner, she thought, during the past few weeks, and the slight hollowness in his cheeks attested to what little sleep he had been getting. It was a firmiliar look, though; as much as she hated to admit it, it perfectly mirrored her own.

"Hey," he said softly. He stopped the motion of the door with his hand, and sank down onto the bench next to her.

"Hey yourself." She studied him for a moment before going on. "How is it in there?"

He sighed. "Just about the same as when you left. Just about the same as always. A bunch of kooks in scrubs trying to save the kids that are dying in front of them."

"Oh, Hawkeye...."

He leaned over and planted a kiss on the top of her head. "It's all right. We've gotten though tough situations before. It's just that... I don't know."

She bit her lip. "It's just that what?"

Hawkeye shook his head and placed his hand on top of hers. "Nothing."

The door creaked open a little, and Colonel Potter stuck his head through the space. "Hate to break up the party, kids, but we've got our hands full in here." He studied Margaret worriedly. "You all right to come back now? We really need you."

Margaret nodded. "Of course, Colonel. I'm fine." She stood up.

"You too, Pierce," Potter said. "Wasn't much of a break, I know, but...."

"It's okay, Colonel." Hawkeye stood and pulled his mask back over his mouth. "We'll be there in a second."

Potter smiled wearily before disappearing back into the OR.

Margaret sighed. "We'd better get back." She looked tiredly up at Hawkeye. "I don't know if I'm ready for this." She wasn't quite sure what she meant.

He seemed to understand. "It's okay," he whispered. Silently, he followed her through the door and back into the sea of operating tables.

Three long and nerve-wracking hours ticked by before everyone was finally able to leave the OR. During those three hours they had lost another one of the soldiers, a kid with sandy-colored hair who couldn't have been over eighteen. Margaret had tried to hold back the tears that flooded her eyes after she lost his heartbeat, but she just wasn't strong enough. Hawkeye had been there next to her, gripping her hand so tight that it hurt. Their eyes never met, but she could tell that he was crying, too.

When the last of the patients had been settled into Post-Op, the exhausted doctors and nurses wandered slowly away. Margaret tried to follow, but she was unable to leave. Maybe it was fatigue, maybe it was sadness, maybe it was something else, but she found herself slumped in a chair next to one of the empty beds, paralyzed. She sat like that for a long time, the gruesome scenes from the OR playing over and over again in her mind. BJ's face when he announced that the sandy-haired kid was going to be okay; BJ's face when he realized that he wasn't; the face of the young soldier as he lay dying before Margaret's eyes. And another face, Hawkeye's, still and quiet as tears rolled down his cheeks. Margaret sighed. It was that last image that hurt her the most.

Her thoughts were broken by the sound of someone's voice. Dully, she turned around, and there was Hawkeye, standing next to the door behind her. He was still wearing his surgical gown, and she realized that he had probably been there with her the entire time. She gazed at him sadly.

"How long have you been standing there?" she whispered.

He shrugged. "I wanted to leave when everyone else did, but... I couldn't."

She nodded. "Neither could I."

"That was one hell of a day."

"Yeah," she agreed. Her voice was almost inaudible.

Slowly, he crossed the room, his boots creaking along the floor. She let out a long breath as he sat down on the empty bed.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked.

"When?"

"When you were just sitting here before. When you thought you were alone."

The face of the sandy-haired kid sprung into her mind again, followed by the image of a silently crying Hawkeye. She shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. "Lots of things."

He scooted closer to her chair and rested his hand on her knee. "Thinking about that soldier?"

She looked at him tentatively. "Yeah."

"So was I." He sighed. "Come sit down here with me."

She slid out of her chair and sank down onto the bed. Silently, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "I wish it didn't have to be like this," he whispered.

Margaret nodded. "I know. I wish the world didn't have to be like this. I wish my life didn't have to be like this." She closed her eyes, and a single tear ran down her cheek. "I wish _our_ lives didn't have to be like this."

"Our lives?"

"Uh-huh."

He pulled her closer. "There's one good thing about this war, though."

She stared at him. "What's that?"

"If this war hadn't happened, and we hadn't been sent to Korea, I probably never would've met you."

She closed her eyes again, unable to stop the tears that were spilling down her cheeks. The one good thing Hawkeye could find about the war was that he had met her. In that moment, Margaret knew that she had never loved anyone the way she loved him. She was sure she never would. But suddenly, as she clung to him and let him pull her into his arms, she thought of something that she had never considered before: when the war was over, they would go their separate ways... and she would never see him again.

Author's Note: This is chapter one... please review and tell me what you think. Thanks.


	2. Hopeless Case

The next few weeks were rough. Margaret found herself almost unwilling to get up each morning, wishing for all the world that she didn't have to get out of bed. That night in Post-Op when she and Hawkeye had realized how much they loved each other, when she had clung to him with such fierce desperation... that night had been on her mind ever since. She wanted to erase it, she thought, to banish it from her memory forever. Or... no, she supposed she didn't, not really. After all, the most wonderful man in the world had told her that the one good thing about the war was that they had met. There was something to be said for that. It was the next part of the memory that Margaret wanted to forget. The part where she realized that after the war, her relationship with this man would be over. He would go back to his life, she would go back to hers, and they would probably never see each other again. Margaret couldn't imagine living without him, but she also couldn't imagine that their love would last once she and Hawkeye left Korea.

It was thoughts like this that kept her awake at night, thoughts like this that made her dread getting up everyday. As much as she tried to fight it, her emotions had begun to take over her life. Her relationship with Hawkeye, even thought it was really the cause of her anxiety, was the only thing keeping her sane.

She loved the things he said to her. No matter how tired or upset she was feeling, he could always make her day a little brighter. She would trudge into the OR some mornings, low on sleep and low on energy, and he would know just what to say to make her smile. She couldn't remember any man talking to her like that before; any man she trusted, anyway. Plenty of guys over the years had told her she was beautiful, but when Hawkeye said it... she didn't just hear his words. She felt them. He made her _feel_ beautiful, and she loved it.

Margaret rolled over in bed and ran her fingers through her hair. Just thinking about Hawkeye sent a tingle up her spine. He was so... she wasn't sure there was a single word that could describe him. Thoughtful? Funny? Handsome? The list of possibilities could go on and on. She sighed. If only their relationship could last that long.

Half an hour later she was on her way to the mess tent. It had been another virtually sleepless night, and she needed a cup of coffee; something that passed for coffee, at least. She was almost to the canvas door when she felt two warm hands on her shoulders. Margaret smiled as they started to massage her back.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"Good morning, Major Houlihan," Hawkeye said playfully. "And how are we doing today?"

She yawned. "A little tired. More than a little, actually."

"Aww." He tugged at her shoulders, and she let him slowly turn her around until they were facing each other. She almost laughed at the clownish frown on his face. "I think I might have just the thing to make you feel better."

She grinned sleepily. "Oh? Are you a doctor?"

He smirked. "We'll see." Tenderly, he reached his hand out, cupping her cheek with his fingertips. She closed her eyes, and he drew her in for a gentle kiss.

When they broke apart, Margaret had to try hard to conceal her disappointment. Moments like this made her want to stay with Hawkeye forever, to live with him and breathe with him for the rest of her life. But moments like this were also reminders of the heartbreaking way she envisioned their future. The real future, not the one she wished for in her dreams. She wasn't sure how much longer she could go on like this. To love this man so much and then to lose him... Margaret didn't know if that was something she could bear.

"Hey," Hawkeye said softly, and she realized that she had been standing there, silent, for several minutes. She blushed.

"I'm sorry. I was just... thinking."

He nodded. "The way you were when I... when I found you three weeks ago in Post-Op?"

She shrugged. "Kind of like that." She was afraid to tell him what was really on her mind. These last days had been so wonderful, and she knew that he thought of them as a couple. She wanted to think that way, too, but something had been holding her back. She had tried to pinpoint it so many times, but so far she had been unsuccessful.

"You've got that look on your face again," he whispered.

She frowned. "What look?"

Hawkeye smiled slightly and laced his fingers through hers. "I don't know. That wistful look. You just look so... sad, sometimes. Is there anything I can do?"

Margaret shook her head, squeezing his hand in what she hoped was a comforting way. She would have to tell him what she was thinking at some point, but not right now. She smiled. "Let's go get some coffee."

By nine o' clock that evening she was ready to collapse. The first casualties had poured in around eight thirty in the morning, and they had been working nonstop ever since. Somebody had mentioned that they hadn't been busy like that for three weeks, and it was true. Three weeks; Margaret felt a painful ache in her heart when she remembered the young soldier that had died three weeks ago, the way she had begun to fall apart three weeks ago, the way she had felt when Hawkeye had first held her so close... three weeks ago. Since that fateful evening, she and Hawkeye had grown closer than she had ever thought was possible. He had admitted that he had always loved her, even when he knew that she wouldn't have wanted him to. Margaret wondered if it was possible for her to fall any deeper in love. She doubted that it was.

But there was still that awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. That twinge of... was it regret? There was nothing to regret, she knew that, but there was still a part of her that wished that she had never let herself get lost in Hawkeye's deep blue eyes. If she didn't allow herself to become attached to him, there would be no heartbreak when they inevitably split apart. It seemed like such a perfect solution. So easy, too; after all, she had been behaving like that all her life. It had taken Margaret awhile to realize that this time it _wouldn't_ be so easy. She _was_ attached to Hawkeye. She had been for a long time, and there was nothing she could do to change that.

She was slowly making her way back to her tent that night when she heard him calling her name. The sound of his voice made her stop dead, and she sighed. What had she been thinking when she'd imagined that she could simply _stop_ herself from falling in love with him? Even the way he said her name made her heart beat faster. Margaret shook her head. She was a hopeless case.

"Margaret." He said it again, and it was all she could do to stay steady on her feet. She smiled weakly as he walked over to where she stood.

"Hey," he said, wrapping his arms around her. She didn't answer. For the moment, holding him was enough.

He planted a kiss in her hair, and she could almost feel his smile. "How are ya?"

She shut her eyes and held onto him tighter, breathing in his scent. She was vaguely aware that he had asked her a question, but she didn't respond. Words didn't matter sometimes. The feeling of his body pressed up against hers meant so much more than anything either of them could say.

"Margaret?" he whispered. He sounded a little concerned; she hadn't said anything yet.

She opened her eyes, quietly admiring the cool night sky. "Hmm?"

"You okay?"

She smiled, turning her gaze to meet his eyes. "Yeah."

Hawkeye yawned. "I'm pretty beat."

"So am I."

"Maybe so, but on you it doesn't show." Margaret grinned, and he leaned his face into hers. Their lips met, and he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"I love you, you know," he said softly.

She nodded, salty tears suddenly stinging her eyes. In a slightly shaky voice, she whispered her answer. "I love you, too."


	3. Reality

Margaret felt the muscles in her hand tighten as Hawkeye increased his grip. They were walking together along the outskirts of the camp, taking advantage of a casualty-free afternoon. The weather was chillier than it had been lately, and the dark clouds above threatened rain, but Hawkeye had insisted that they take a walk anyway. "We need some time together," he'd said, and Margaret hadn't protested. She was tired, and would rather have spent the afternoon collapsed on her cot, but she didn't tell him that. She had been busy lately, busier than usual it seemed, and they hadn't seen much of each other. In the back of her mind, she could hear a voice telling her that she had been avoiding him, but she did her best to ignore it. She had been busy. Very busy. That was all.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hawkeye shoot her a questioning glance. Neither of them had said a word since they'd begun walking, and the silence grew more deafening with every minute. Margaret felt her cheeks flush as his eyes bored into her. She wanted to apologize for being so distant these past few days, to offer him an explanation, but... she didn't have one. She wasn't sure what had come over her, why she suddenly felt so uncomfortable under his gaze. She wanted the feeling to go away, but it wouldn't.

Hawkeye cleared his throat. She turned her head to steal a glance at him, and let out a small gasp when he met her eyes. Flustered, she looked away, and then immediately regretted it. _Damn it, Margaret,_ she thought. _This is the man you love. What the hell is wrong with you?_

The wind was picking up, and she shivered inadvertently. Slowly, Hawkeye's fingers began to massage her palm. He had obviously noticed how tense she was.

"Margaret?" he said tentatively.

Her heart leapt into her throat. All she could do was look at him.

He stared at her, clearly trying to read her thoughts in her face, and her cheeks flushed. Why did it have to be so damn easy for him to figure her out? She bit her lip, and he laced his fingers through hers.

"It's okay," he whispered softly, and her eyes were suddenly filled with tears. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he pressed his hand over her lips.

"Shh. It's okay, Margaret," he repeated. "It's okay."

She tried to speak, but she couldn't. She didn't trust her own voice anymore. Hawkeye did such crazy things to her sometimes; he could change her mood with a single word, even just an expression. One minute she would be spitting mad, afraid to say anything for fear that she would explode, and the next... she would be falling apart, afraid to say something because she knew that if she opened her mouth, she would start to cry. All of a sudden, this was one of those times. Margaret could feel her hands shaking, and she pulled away from Hawkeye's grasp. She didn't want him to see her cry.

She had only gone a few steps when he grabbed her by the shoulders. His touch was gentle but firm, and she knew that she didn't have the strength to pull away from him. She swallowed.

"What do you want me to say?" Her voice was only a whisper, but she could hear it shaking all the same.

Hawkeye circled around her so that they were standing face to face. His clear blue eyes searched her face and she stared at the ground, unable to look at him.

He sighed. "Look, I know you're upset. And you don't have to say anything, not anything at all. This isn't about what I want you to say. I just wish I knew what... what was happening to us. A couple weeks ago we were doing great, and now... I don't know. Something's different." He paused, and she could hear uncertainty in his voice. "Isn't it?"

A single tear ran down her cheek. Slowly, she raised her head to look at him. "I... I don't know."

He moved closer to her, taking both of her hands in his. "I don't know what's bothering you, Margaret, but... I love you. I just want to help."

She couldn't hold on any longer. The tears came coursing down her cheeks, and she was too weak to try and stop them. "It's... it's..." she stammered.

Hawkeye closed the gap between them and gently drew her into his arms. "It's okay," he whispered, his fingertips tracing soft circles on her back. Her crying was getting harder now and he pulled her closer, resting his cheek in the soft billows of her hair. "I'm here, Margaret. I'm not gonna let you go." She collapsed against him, feeling all of the energy in her body drain away.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and lead her to a bench that sat a few feet from where they had been standing. They were behind the Officer's Club, and Margaret was vaguely aware that there were voices coming from inside. It must've been later than she'd thought, or maybe everybody was just getting an early start on their drinking. She wouldn't have minded a drink right about now.

Hawkeye sat down on the bench, and she sank down next to him. His arm was still draped protectively over her shoulder, and he shifted so that she could rest her head on his chest. She leaned into him gratefully. Hawkeye's other arm hung loosely at his side, his fingers absent-mindedly picking blades of grass. Normally Margaret was annoyed when he did things like that, but this time she was too tired to notice.

"Thanks," she murmured. "I just...."

He nodded. "I know."

They sat there for a while, neither of them saying a word. Finally, when she was almost completely sure that she was no longer in danger of bursting into tears, Margaret decided it was time to tell Hawkeye what was on her mind. Even if he couldn't make her feel any better, he at least deserved to know why she had been behaving the way she had. Slowly, she sat up.

"Hawkeye?"

"Hmm?" She wasn't sure if he had really heard her. He was still engrossed in his grass blades. Margaret smiled in spite of herself. He was so quirky. That was one of the things she loved about him. She was silent for a moment, waiting for a sign that he was really listening. He didn't give her one, so she tried again.

"Hawkeye."

This time he looked up. The expression on his face was wistful and a little far-away, and she wondered if he had been daydreaming. He smiled at her, and then, seeming to suddenly remember what had happened, his look changed to one of concern. He reached for her hand, taking it gently.

"How are ya?"

She shrugged. "I'm okay. Listen, I... I'm sorry about our walk. I know you just wanted us to relax together and I... I didn't make it very easy for you to relax. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, Margaret." He squeezed her hand. "It's fine."

"No, no it's not. I haven't been an easy person to be around lately and we both know it."

"Maybe you know it, but I don't. How could I? I haven't seen you lately."

She sighed, feeling her cheeks flush. She had been avoiding him, and he knew it. She was about to apologize again when his face broke into a huge grin.

"Margaret, I'm kidding. What I'm trying to say is, it's okay. Really. Everybody has their ups and downs, and around here it's a lot easier to be down than up. The war gets to me too. Hell, its gets to all of us. Even you. There's nothing wrong with admitting that."

She nodded. "I know. But it's not just the war that's been on my mind, it's... well...." She paused, looking him straight in the eyes. "You're gonna think I'm silly."

Hawkeye shook his head. "Never. You're not silly. Crazy, maybe, but definitely not silly."

Margaret rolled her eyes. "Do you have to turn everything into a joke?"

He winced. "Sorry. No more jokes. I'm listening."

"Okay." Margaret sat up a little straighter, taking in a deep breath. She wasn't sure she knew where to start. _Just tell him everything_, she told herself, _from the beginning. _

"Well, remember that really rough day we had in the O.R.?"

Hawkeye smiled grimly. "I remember a couple year's worth."

"It was a little over a month ago, I guess. We were in surgery for something like fifteen hours." She grimaced, remembering how awful that day had been.

"Right. And we... we lost that kid. That young soldier." He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't think I'm ever gonna forget that."

Margaret nodded. "Yeah. And after that. When you... when I... when you found me in Post-Op. I was so shaken, and so alone, and you... you made me feel so much better."

"I couldn't stand to see you like that."

"I know. That's when I realized how I felt about you. How much I loved you." She clenched her fist absently, and then unclenched it again. "I don't know why this is so hard for me to say."

Hawkeye squeezed her hand tenderly. "Easy, Margaret. You're doing just fine."

"Thanks." She smiled nervously. Maybe he would understand after all. "Anyway, that night was so wonderful. I didn't want it to end. I didn't want it to end because I didn't want to face reality."

"Reality?"

"The reality that our relationship could never really work. I mean, here we are, two unhappy people chopping up... chopping up children at a hospital in Korea! The only reason I even know you is because of this war, and I... I hate this war!" She bit her lip, tears stinging her eyes again. There was no turning back now. "I never thought I'd say that, but it's true. I hate it because of what it does to people. What it's done to us! I mean, I was never really happy before I came to Korea, but I wasn't like this!" She tightened her grip on his hand. "I wasn't like this."

Hawkeye nodded. "I know. But we're doing just fine here. Look at us; we're making this work!"

She shook her head violently. "No! No we're not. Maybe it'll work for awhile, but in the end...."

"It doesn't have to be that way, Margaret."

"Yes, it does! Because when the war's over, we'll be over, too. You'll go home, and I'll go home, and... and they won't be the same place. Oh God, Hawkeye, they won't be the same place. You'll have your life and I'll have mine, and they won't have anything to do with each other." A lone tear escaped down her cheek, and she brushed it away angrily. There was no telling how he would react when she was finished. Margaret swallowed; the lump in her throat didn't go away. "And I... I'll never see you again."

Hawkeye was silent. He sat there with his eyes on the ground, long bony fingers running through his hair, over and over. When he finally looked up, the eyes that met hers were filled with an intense sadness.

"That's what's been bothering you?" he asked. His voice was almost a whisper.

Margaret nodded, quiet tears rolling down her cheeks. "That's it."

Hawkeye sighed. He scooted closer to her, silently taking her in his arms. "I love you, Margaret," he said. His voice was shaking.

She clung to him, wishing that she would never have to let go. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. I... I don't think I could...." Her voice cracked and she trailed off, burying her face in his neck.

"Oh, Margaret." He held her tighter, pressing his body up against hers and gripping her so hard that it hurt. "I love you. No matter what happens, I love you. Remember that."

She nodded, lifting her head slightly and laying it on his shoulder. The fabric of his jacket was wet with her tears. "How could I ever forget?"


End file.
